


and the lady makes two

by mariathepenguin



Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1536134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariathepenguin/pseuds/mariathepenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Random moments in the lives of Gail and Holly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i> She never met anyone who is so unbothered by her sharp edges, and who doesn’t make her feel weird for being, well... weird, but who expects so much more from her than anyone she’s ever dated. The cat in the tree routine doesn’t seem worth it anymore, no matter how much this scares her sometimes. It’s like she’s a gone from a really energetic nervous cat to a really lazy one. Or a sick one. Or a cat that’s afraid of heights.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>God, she sucks at metaphors. Maybe it’s a simile. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	and the lady makes two

**Author's Note:**

> This is mainly just bits of fluff strung together into vaguely ficlike structure because I have a lot of feelings.

_We tell each other stuff, right?_

 

Holly isn’t like anyone Gail has ever met before. Gail grew up around people like her mother, people who had smiles like broken glass wrapped in velvet. People who spoke to Steve like he was the natural continuation of the Peck line and Gail as an afterthought.

Gail knows people like her mother, who dominate, and her father, who are content to make spaces for themselves in the shadows. She learns her way around people like Chris, who hold their hearts out for other people with a naivete that she will never understand. She respects people like Traci and Callaghan. But she’s never met anyone like Holly.

‘That’s probably for the best,’ Holly says sleepily, when Gail tells her this, high on endorphins and sex.  The post orgasmic haze makes Holly’s words smooth and lazy, and Gail lets her eyes flutter shut. Her hand curves around Gail’s ribcage. ‘I’m not so good at sharing.’

Gail opens her eyes and studies the supine form stretched out in front of her, knees brushing hers and dark eyes staring with an intimacy that would have made Gail run for the hills, once upon a time.

‘Neither am I,’ Gail says. She tangles a hand in the ends of Holly’s hair and watches her easy slip into sleep, listens to the breathing that slows and steadies to match the stroking of Gail’s hand through her hair.

 

*

 

Holly lives in a snug one bedroom five minutes from the morgue. Holly has a black and white cat that takes to Gail almost as soon as she walks in the door.

The stupid cat almost trips her up on the way to the couch, but she can’t be mad because it’s rubbing itself all over her legs and purring like she’s covered in catnip, and Holly’s watching the whole ridiculous scene like it’s cute, or whatever. So Gail stands still and waits until the sound of the can opener draws the cat away from her, and carefully takes her jacket and holster off.

Holly comes back into the living room, sans cat, and pulls Gail down onto the couch. Gail leans into her automatically, like this isn’t her first time in Holly’s apartment, like the fingers tracing circles on her arm aren’t a completely new development.

Swarek has been declared stable for now, and she’s covering Chloe’s shift tomorrow, so Frank sent her home. This horrible day is finally over, but she feels shattered, like she could fall into bed and not move for the next month or so.

‘Sometimes,’ she starts. Her voice is rough, and she stops to catch her breath. ‘I really fucking hate my job.’ She takes a deep breath in, and her throat closes, and her eyes get dry and hot like they do before she starts to cry. Holly reaches out and pulls her closer, and she leans against her, tucking her face into her neck and breathing in the faint scent of Holly’s perfume. Holly, who Gail blew off but still showed up at the hospital when Gail called. Fresh guilt wells up and she bites her lip hard.

Holly doesn’t say anything, just holds Gail to her until she feels a little more under control. Gail leans away as soon as she can catch her breath, abruptly, acutely embarrassed.

‘Sorry,’ she rasps. Holly fixes her with a disbelieving look.

‘Don’t be,’ she says. ‘You don’t have anything to be sorry for.’

The cat makes its entrance then, purring loudly and leaping onto Gail’s lap. She nudges at it, and it stares for a second before settling down and licking its leg.

‘Cat,’ she says.

‘Barry,’ Holly corrects, shrugging when Gail looks at her incredulously. ‘I lost a bet,’ Holly explains.

‘Cat,’ Gail says, again. ‘Go away.’ The cat curls up and appears to go to sleep, and Gail freezes, at a loss. Holly laughs quietly next to her and Gail tries to hide a smile in a scowl as she tries to get the thing to move. Eventually Holly takes pity on her and lifts the cat away, ignoring his irritated yowls at being moved.

Gail sighs in relief, and Holly smiles her crooked smile.

‘Your cat sucks,’ Gail mutters.

‘He just likes you, Holly says, still smiling. ‘I get the feeling.’

A small burst of happiness wells up in Gail’s chest, the promise of spring after a long winter, and she finally smiles back.

 

*

 

‘Just try one,’ Holly says encouragingly, holding the football out towards Gail, who eyes it like it’s a hissing snake. ‘Just one throw.’

‘I thought we already had the discussion about sports,’ Gail says. Holly rolls her eyes.

‘I remember you telling me about the incident with the tennis racket,’ she says. ‘And the time Steve loaned you his hockey equipment and you-’

‘You don’t need to remind me,’ Gail says snippily. ‘I was there, remember?’ But her tone rolls right off Holly’s back, annoyingly, and the football is waved in her direction again.

‘It’s a beautiful day,’ Holly says.’ We’re in the park, the sun is shining, and I made us a picnic lunch. Which you can have in exchange for just one little game.’

Gail sighs in defeat and takes the stupid football, weighing it carefully in her hands. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Just throw it,’ Holly says. She takes the football back and demonstrates with exaggerated slowness, lobbing the ball a few feet away. Gail watches doubtfully. It looks a little pointless, and also difficult, but she finds Holly very difficult to say no to. And Holly makes the best sandwiches.

She picks the football up and gives an experimental throw. The ball gives a pathetic wobble and flies through the air at an angle, landing somewhere to her right. She feels her face burn red.

Holly isn’t laughing though; she just smiles warmly and goes to get the ball.

‘I’m hungry,’ Gail says. ‘I think that’s more than enough sports for the next, like fifty years.’

‘You’re cute,’ Holly says, standing beside her. She wraps Gail’s fingers around the ball again, and adjusts her grip. ‘Try one more time.’

Gail does, and the ball flies in a straight line, more or less, and lands a respectable distance away. She tries hard to bite down on a smile, and only partly succeeds. Holly presses a soft kiss to her cheek.

‘I’m so proud of you,’ Holly says, in a tone that manages to be sincere and mocking at the same time. Gail pokes her in the side with her finger.

‘Whatever, Holly. Now _feed me_.’

 

When the food is gone they stretch out on the picnic blanket side by side. The park is quiet for a Sunday, and the late afternoon sunshine touches at the edges of the leaves and the tips of the grass, making everything around them glow with a soft light.

‘My dad taught me how to throw a football,’ Holly says, out of nowhere. Gail turns to face her. She knows that Holly’s dad died when she was fourteen, but Holly hasn’t told her more than that. It’s one of the few parts of Holly that she guards in the way Gail guards her whole being, and this unexpected offering shakes Gail from her quiet calm.

‘He was really good at football,’ Holly continues. ‘Pretty athletic, generally.’ Gail reaches out a hesitant hand to rest on her arm. ‘He’d drag me out of my room to go hiking, or swimming. I hated it sometimes.’ Holly’s eyes are unusually bright, and Gail stays still and silent as Holly raises a hand to wipe her eyes.

Gail has never been good with soft words. She’s never known the right thing to say at the right moment, and so she leans over and kisses the corner of Holly’s mouth. She feels a hand wrap around her upper arm, and she kisses Holly’s lips, briefly, before pulling back.

‘I’m sorry I suck so much at football,’ she says in the end, when it’s clear that Holly’s not going to say anything else. Holly chokes out a reluctant laugh, and her hand moves from Gail’s back to her cheek.

‘You were better than I thought you’d be,’ Holly says, the corners of her mouth pulling up, and Gail hesitates, because this moment still feels so heavy, and feelings are easier with Holly, but they still aren’t easy.

‘Still,’ she says. ‘I’m sorry.’ And Holly gets what she’s trying to say, because Holly understands her, and she understands Holly, and sometimes it really is that simple.

 

*

 

Their first time, Gail is a ball of nerves, because she had planned to be drunker than she is, but Holly wouldn’t stop touching her thighs under the table at the Penny. She’d dragged Holly out so they could go somewhere with a bed, or at least a comfortable reclining surface.

When they get inside Holly clasps her clenched fists in her hands and eases them open, tangling their fingers together.

‘Say stop,’ she says, her mouth so close that their lips brush at every other word, ‘and I will.’

Gail closes the last quarter-inch between them and kisses Holly, softly at first, deepening he kiss as Holly kisses her back. She pulls her hands away to trace the top button of Holly’s shirt.

‘I’m not going to,’ Gail says, pulling her mouth away. She feels more awkward than she has in years, but she can’t imagine being anywhere than where she is right now.

‘Still,’ Holly insists softly. Her hands stroke up and down her sides, and Gail shivers. She nods, and presses their bodies together, sighing at the warmth.

‘Take me to bed,’ she says, and Holly does.

 

Holly is warm and relaxed in bed. She laughs, and likes to tease. She is meticulous and thorough and very, very clearly knows what she is doing. She’s unselfconscious about how much she wants Gail, and shows her, often.

And Gail does her best to show Holly how much she wants her, because Holly is soft and smooth and sometimes all Gail wants is to make Holly feel the way she makes Gail feel.

(She remembers Holly taking her hand and sliding it down her own body, that first night, guiding Gail’s fingers, showing her how to touch her, and arching into her hand when she got it right.)

Gail isn’t the romantic type, as a rule, but every now and then she pictures Holly in bed, sometimes sleeping, sometimes awake, waiting for her to come back, and she just feels so _much_.

 

*

 

They sit in tense silence as Holly’s car idles outside Gail’s apartment.

‘Gail,’ Holly says. ‘I just worry about you.’

Tonight was supposed to be their six month anniversary. Gail doesn’t like to overdo it with the celebrations, but Holly does. So Gail made sure to be off shift in time to get ready, and she’d picked up a pair of earrings that she’d seen Holly eyeing the last time they went to the market.

It had all gone great, until a routine domestic call had ended with Diaz nursing a black eye and Gail with bruised ribs. Frank had let her go home early and she’d done her best to ice them before the dinner, but she clearly hadn’t done a good enough job.

‘I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me,’ Holly says. She is gripping the steering wheel so hard Gail imagines she can hear it creak.

‘I didn’t want to worry you,’ she mutters.’ Holly turns to face her fully, and glares.

‘That’s crap,’ she says. ‘That’s not how we work. You know that.’

‘I don’t have to tell you everything,’ Gail snaps, and instantly regrets it when she sees the hurt on Holly’s face. ‘I’m sorry,’ she adds.

‘That doesn’t really cut it,’ Holly says. Gail can see the strain on her face, the worry. ‘You can’t just show up with cracked-’

‘Bruised,’ Gail corrects, and Holly shoots her a withering look.

‘Bruised ribs, to our anniversary dinner, and expect me not to notice.’

Well, yeah, in hindsight, it was pretty dumb of Gail to hope that her doctor girlfriend would be able to brush off Gail’s wincing whenever she made a sudden movement, but walled-off Gail had made an unexpected reappearance and she hadn’t been able to relax enough to tell Holly what her day had been like.

But it’s all gone wrong now, and Holly is shooting her those big sad eyes, so Gail crosses her arms and stares straight ahead.

‘I know how you get when I get hurt,’ Gail says eventually. ‘After Ford, and that drug bust. I knew if I told you it would ruin everything.’

And Holly looks at her in that way she does sometimes. It’s the look that makes her feel like she can see right through her, like she knows everything that Gail is thinking, and she fights the urge to look away.

Something in Holly’s face softens, and she turns the car off.

‘Let’s go in,’ she says, slipping out of the car, coming around to Gail’s side and opening the door before Gail can process her sudden change in mood. She takes Gail by the hand and leads her to the front door, and waits patiently for Gail to open the door.

The living room is empty, with scattered plates and assorted junk the only sign that the boys are around, and Gail leads the way to her room. She feels tired, suddenly, and sore, and she wants out of the uncomfortable dress that she had picked out for the night, but Holly is still looking at her in that way that makes her feel laid bare.

She stands still as Holly walks behind her and pulls the pins out of her hair, and she can’t help but sigh a little bit when Holly’s hands runs through her hair carefully, spreading it out over her shoulders.

‘Can I ask you a question?’ Holly asks. Gail nods cautiously, and Holly turns her gently to face her.

‘Do I ever make you feel like you can’t talk about work stuff with me?’ Holly hands move out of her hair and settle at her hips. Gail hesitates before giving a single, reluctant nod. Holly’s face falls a little, and Gail places her hands over Holly’s.

‘I get it,’ Gail says. She grew up in a family of cops; she knows what it’s like to be scared that someone she loves isn’t going to come home. ‘I really do.’

‘But I make you feel like you can’t tell me things.’ Holly’s voice is even, but Gail can feel the fingers on her hips tighten their grip, just slightly.

‘It’s not... I don’t...’ she runs a frustrated hand through her hair. ‘I hate making you upset,’ Gail confesses, eventually. Holly frowns.

‘I want you to be able to tell me stuff,’ Holly says. ‘Even when you don’t think I want to hear it. That’s kind of our thing, right? I’m sorry I make you feel like you can’t,’ Holly adds, and Gail leans forward and kisses her gently, partly because she’s been wanting to all evening, but also because Holly might start to ramble soon.

Holly’s hands slide around to press at the small of her back, and Gail relaxes into the touch, tugging Holly’s shirt out of her pants so she can press her hands against her bare skin. They break for air, and she pulls back a couple of inches so she can see Holly’s face.

‘My job sucks sometimes, you know that,’ Gail says, and Holly nods. She leans forward and presses short kisses to Gail’s lips before pulling back again.

‘Can I see?’ Holly asks, and Gail takes a second to search her face before nodding. Holly’s fingers search out for the concealed zip at the side of Gail’s dress, and take their time peeling the dress off her. Gail shivers slightly as the cool air of the room hits her skin and she holds herself still as Holly examines the ugly bruise across the front and side of her ribs, left over from when the idiot at the scene had knocked her down a flight of stairs as he tried to get away.

Holly runs her fingers gently over the bruise, soft enough that it doesn’t hurt, and Gail watches the top of her head as she bends down close enough to see it properly. She shivers again when lips ghost over her skin.

‘Holly,’ she says, half warning, half asking, and Holly straightens up and gives her a small smile.

‘I’m proud of you, you know,’ Holly says. You do this amazing job that you’re great at. That’s always going to be the most important thing to me.’

Gail looks at Holly, earnest and worried, hand holding Gail’s tight, and she swallows past the sudden lump in her throat.

‘Yeah, okay,’ she says, because Gail loves Holly more than anything, but she still isn’t good with soft words, and probably never will be. She clears her throat, tries again. ‘Okay,’ she says, stronger. ‘Thank you,’ she adds, and Holly smiles a shy smile and Gail leans forward and kisses her until they are both dizzy.

 

Later, they are lying in bed, nearly asleep. Holly’s head rests on the pillow next to hers, and Gail’s hand tangles in her t-shirt.

‘Frank gave me tomorrow off,’ she mumbles.

‘Any plans?’

‘Nope.’ Gail can feel her eyes closing, and her head going all fuzzy. ‘Unless you want to call in sick tomorrow.’

Holly shifts next to her, considering. Then: ‘really?’

‘You gotta live a little, nerd,’ Gail says. Holly chuckles.

‘You’d better not disappoint me, Officer.’

‘Never,’ she murmurs, and she is asleep.

‘

*

 

So yeah, Gail’s never met anyone like Holly before, and she probably won’t again. Which is fine because she’s more than happy with the Holly she has.

(‘aw, babe,’ Holly says, smirking, when Gail tells her this. ‘I can’t imagine having more than one of you, either.’ Holly smiles that smile that’s caught halfway between sincerity and sarcasm, and Gail pinches her palm gently.

‘Don’t make me take it back,’ she warns, but Holly just laughs).

She never met anyone who is so unbothered by her sharp edges, and who doesn’t make her feel weird for being, well... weird, but who expects so much more from her than anyone she’s ever dated. The cat in the tree routine doesn’t seem worth it anymore, no matter how much this scares her sometimes. It’s like she’s a gone from a really energetic nervous cat to a really lazy one. Or a sick one. Or a cat that’s afraid of heights.

God, she sucks at metaphors. Maybe it’s a simile.

‘Gail.’ A hand gently shakes at her shoulder. ‘You’re gonna be late for work.’ She blinks her eyes open to Holly, hovering above her and holding a cup of coffee.

‘Not yet,’ she mumbles. ‘Sleeping.’

‘Not anymore,’ Holly says. She leans forward and kisses Gail’s cheek. ‘Come on.’

She smiles, a small, secret smile that lingers on her lips, and does just that.

 

 


End file.
